


Saturday Sun

by sixappleseeds



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, non-hockey au, unmitigated fluff, vacation fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 02:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17479565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixappleseeds/pseuds/sixappleseeds
Summary: When you meet someone on vacation and everything's wonderful and nothing is angsty and there's a lot of feelings





	Saturday Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the song by Vance Joy

He’d dreamt of whales again. Sid drifted into consciousness, holding onto the image, the feeling, of whales in his dreams. He opened his eyes with a smile, then blinked, then smiled again as he curled back into his pillows. Vacation. After months of planning, saving, and willing time to pass faster, he was finally here.

 _Here_ was a lovely Airbnb apartment on the third floor of a charming home, less than a mile from California’s Monterey Bay. Here was a week in late June, all to himself. This trip was ostensibly to do in-person research for next year’s curriculum, but of course he would also visit Monterey’s famous aquarium, and, hopefully, go out to see some whales in real life.

His students, high schoolers and each of them monsters in their own special ways, teased him for being so into whales when he taught them history classes. It was true his classroom was adorned with posters of labor activists alongside huge pictures of humpbacks, but his students still gifted him with random cetacean memorabilia at every opportunity. A few weeks earlier, on the last day of school, they’d even presented him with a whale-shaped cake, and made him promise to take pictures of all the whales he saw in California. Sid promised to do his best.

His flight from Pittsburgh had arrived too late the night before for Sid to do much more than grab some groceries and meet his hosts, but now the jet lag appeared to be working out in his favor. Dawn was just breaking as Sid practiced his morning yoga, and the cool breeze through the apartment windows was a pleasant change from the sticky humidity back home.

Over breakfast — toast courtesy a local bakery, strawberries from a nearby farm, and eggs from the hens in the backyard; he’d gotten so lucky with this place — Sid considered the rest of his day. There were about a dozen things he hoped to do during his time here, but if he was honest, the aquarium was calling to him. And why not visit on his first full day in town? There was even a free trolley he could take, the stop just a short walk from his Airbnb.

On the way over, Sid sent a stupid selfie to the group chat — his friends from school, all of them fellow teachers — and then took a few minutes to compose something nice for his Instagram. Flower and Hilary chirped him for the care he took with his Instagram account, but it was public and he knew a lot of his students followed him there. Doubtless their parents did too. He always tried to include educational details in the captions.

The little trolley was as charming as Sid had hoped it would be. He found a seat toward the back, edging past families obviously bound for the aquarium too, and re-checked admission prices on his phone. If he planned to visit more than twice, it’d be worth buying a membership, but the whale watching tours weren’t exactly cheap and he might want to do that a few times, too. Plus he had to get up to Salinas, spend a day in the Steinbeck Center, because this was a research trip after all...

He was doing some mental math — his Airbnb had a kitchenette, so he could save money by cooking for himself — when the trolley stopped outside the bus station. A crowd of people began shuffling on, but Sid’s attention was caught by a tall man with a backpack. He was long and lean and had frankly enormous hands, though his face was currently hidden under one of those trucker hats everyone seemed to be wearing these days. Sid could practically hear Flower sniggering, and he rolled his eyes at himself. Just because everyone knew Sid had a type didn’t mean he should deny it. He spent approximately ten seconds daydreaming about this stranger, until the guy actually boarded the trolley and started scanning around for an open seat. Sid obligingly moved his own bag to his lap and waited.

An older couple trundled up the aisle instead. Sid hopped up, and after some head shaking, hand waving, and insisting that it was fine, convinced both of them to sit while he stood, hanging onto the handrail. Sid glanced down the aisle and saw the guy was also standing, but he looked away when Sid met his eye. He had, Sid noticed, a penguin on his hat. God. Sid was a goner.

It was entirely coincidental that Sid was the one who held the door for the guy going into the aquarium. He held the door for quite a few people, including the elderly couple, who thanked him and called him a dear. The guy was just the last of the little crowd from the trolley; it would’ve been rude not to hold the door for him, too.

“Thanks,” the guy said, and Sid had the impression of a curving mouth, dark eyes, and a rather pretty face. He blinked, remembered to let go of the door and actually enter the aquarium himself. _Such_ a goner.

Sid ended up in line right behind the guy, and stared absently at a rather familiar-looking logo pinned on his backpack. _Carnegie Mellon Tartans_. It was something he saw so frequently it took Sid a solid twenty seconds to realize what it meant. He was only saved from completely embarrassing himself — “Wait,” he’d almost burst out, “are you from _Pittsburgh?_ ” — by the guy stepping up to the ticket counter.

“One, please,” Sid heard him say in accented English.

“Are you a student?” the person at the desk asked, eyeing his backpack.

The man lifted his arms in a shrug. “Well, yes, but...” He pointed up to the sign with the ticket prices. “Too old for your student. You want pretend I’m 17?”

The person grinned, and, Sid would’ve sworn they blushed. Sid shoved his hands in his pockets and edged a little closer.

“What do you study?” They were still smiling, and began typing something on their computer.

“Steinbeck!” the guy said. “Writing master’s on Steinbeck and Russia. This is break.” He gestured to the aquarium. “Resting brain, look at pretty fish.”

That earned him another grin, and then the person at the desk quoted him the student admission price.

“Best,” the guy declared, collecting his ticket and aquarium map. Sid stared after him.

 _Crosby_ , he told himself sternly as he stepped up to buy his own ticket. _Get a hold of yourself_. He was here to see the aquarium, not ogle creepily at strangers, no matter how handsome he found them.

To that end, he turned purposefully toward the gift store and made himself browse the book selection. He took pictures of a few titles and sent them to Julie and Brownie, who taught English, and then sent a few other titles to Olli and Phil, who taught science. _Want any of these?_ he texted. _We could write it off._

Feeling properly teacherly again, Sid wandered back toward the main concourse. It was absolutely a coincidence when he looked up from his aquarium map, planning to head toward the bay habitat exhibits, and noticed the guy, backpack still slung over one shoulder, walking in the same direction. Sid rolled his eyes and followed.

He definitely studied the exhibits. It was impossible not to, even with the crowds of shrieking day campers jostling around. Sid couldn’t not stare at the sturgeon and the leopard sharks — sharks! — gliding just a few meters from where he stood. It was incredible. They were _right there_.

But Sid wasn’t lying to himself: he also looked at the guy. There was a wryness about his expression as he watched a herd of kids exclaim over the sea turtle, and a kind of quiet joy as they stood near each other, gazing at the sharks, that pulled at Sid in a way he had trouble describing. It seemed to go deeper than the basic attraction he’d felt on the trolley. Sid stared at a darting school of anchovies — sardines? — beyond the glass and tried to figure out how to talk to him.

Then the guy shifted closer, looked over at Sid as Sid was sneaking a glance up at him. Sid’s breath caught.

“Think you stare at me more than fish.”

For a paralyzing moment Sid wasn’t sure if he should apologize, or how — sincerely? jokingly? offer to clear the premises and never return? — and then the guy grinned. “Cute,” he said. “You like?”

“Yeah,” Sid said, because his tongue was a traitor. “Maybe I do.” But he looked determinedly back at the fish. “My name’s Sid.”

“Nice to meet, Sid, my name’s Geno,” the guy said, still sounding amused. “Is short for Evgeni but Americans can’t pronounce Russian properly.”

Well that was a line he’d said a few times before. Sid looked back up at him. Under his ball cap, Geno’s dark eyes were glinting with humor. “I’m Canadian,” Sid said, “but I probably couldn’t do any better. I should apologize for staring, Geno. I uh, noticed your CMU pin. I’m from Pittsburgh.”

He offered his hand to shake, but Geno laughed and threw an arm around Sid’s shoulders. “Pittsburgh! I love this tiny stupid city. You live there now?”

Sid extricated himself, though Geno didn’t move away. Sid decided he didn‘t mind. “Yeah. I mean, I’m on vacation here now, but I live in Pittsburgh. I teach.”

A crowd of moms with strollers and cantering toddlers wandered through, and for a moment it was too loud to speak. Geno made a little shooing motion and he and Sid moved to another side of the exhibit. A giant sea bass drifted past the glass, and they both stood, watching.

“So big,” Geno murmured. He blinked. “You teach!” he cried. “What you teach? Wait no let me guess.”

Sid turned in time to see Geno give him a decidedly salacious once-over. Then Geno winked. “Sport?”

Holy shit.

“Ah,” he said, turning back to the sea bass. “No, history. High school level.” He resisted the urge to add that he played pick-up hockey once a week. But maybe he’d tell Flower that all his morning yoga-ing, as Flower called it, was paying off. Flower would be delighted.

“Oh, well, good enough,” Geno said. “Teacher, what’s this word mean?” He walked over to an exhibit placard on the red octopus.

Sid followed. His shoulder bumped Geno’s as he read over the description. “‘Mollusk?’ Uh.” Octopuses were like clams? Sid pulled out his phone.

Geno watched him for a moment, and then clapped him on the back. “Even English speaker can’t do science words,” he crowed. “I’m have trouble with so many of these, think it’s me but maybe not?”

“No,” Sid said, scanning the Wikipedia page on mollusks (also spelled “molluscs,” and there appeared to be some debate about that; god he loved academia). “Science words are like a whole sub-language, don’t feel bad. Oh, okay so mollusks are a phylum, uh, a big big group, of invertebrates.” He could feel Geno’s breath in his hair, and focused on the science words on his screen.

“Invertebrates.”

“Animals without a backbone.” He reached over and poked Geno’s lightly, and Geno jumped.

As if it knew it was being discussed, the exhibit’s red octopus wafted by. Geno began hopping up and down like a little kid. “Look look look look,” he hissed, punching Sid’s arm. “There it is, there it is!”

“I see it, I see it,” Sid whispered back, caught by Geno’s excitement. “God it’s beautiful isn’t it?”

“So beautiful.”

They stood there for a few minutes, as the octopus hid behind the swaying kelp, and the sardines — or were those anchovies? — streamed past.

“Maybe we go around together,” Geno said. “You explain science words?”

 _There’s no way this guy is single_ , Sid told himself. “Sure,” he said anyway. “Sounds like a plan.”

Together they wandered through the aquarium, lingering in front of exhibits and reading all of the placards. Children raced around them, and hassled-looked parents hauling overstuffed bags bumped by them, and more than once Sid googled terms from exhibit descriptions on his phone, to better translate for Geno. The jellyfish left Sid genuinely breathless, and he had Geno take his picture there, silhouetted against the glass. This led to a conversation about his students, his school, and why he taught history but loved the ocean.

“I grew up in the Maritimes,” he said, as they sat on a bench in the jellyfish room. “Ah, that’s in eastern Canada. I spent a lot of time on my grandfather’s boat, going out in the mornings and learning about sailing. We used to see whales in the fall, and I remember the first time I saw one I cried, because I didn’t know they could get so big.”

A humpback had breached less than fifty meters away, and Sid, maybe four at the time, had been so overwhelmed he couldn’t even go near his grandfather’s boat for weeks afterward.

“So my grandfather started telling me stories about my ancestors, like my great-great-great grandparents, and how they were involved in the whaling industry. It helped me not feel so afraid. Like, if my ancestors could kill them, then they were nothing to be scared of. I used to brag about it,” he admitted. “Then I got to university and started learning more. About whaling, I mean, but also the history of the Maritimes, really all of Canada, as a place that was — not given, or empty, but taken.” He’d come home one holiday break and announced that he was double-majoring in history and education, because history was important and a kid shouldn’t have to wait until college to really learn it.

“Anyway,” he concluded, suddenly feeling a little silly, because Geno hadn’t signed up for a lecture. “I always tell my students that you can’t change the past, you know? But you can learn from it, and try to be better in the future.”

The jellyfish floated by, a few meters from where they sat. Sid focused on sitting still. He’d overshared, probably. It was a bad habit of his. Geno was quiet next to him, and Sid couldn’t bring himself to look over. But after a full minute of silence and jellyfish, he tried again.

“I, ah, used to have dreams about whales as a kid, but they were nightmares. I’d wake up terrified. When I was at school though, they started to change.” He rubbed a hand through his hair. “Now it’s like, when I have a whale dream I know it’s gonna be a good day.”

Now he glanced up at Geno, and Geno was gazing back at him with a little half smile and something that looked a lot like fondness. So Sid swallowed and added, “I had one of those dreams this morning, actually. Should’ve known.”

Geno’s expression turned smug. “Of course it’s best day,” he said. “You meet me!”

“Yeah.” Sid grinned. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

.

They ate lunch in the food court, at a little table barely big enough for their trays, and Sid gave up trying not to knock his knees with Geno’s. Geno was smiling like the expression was made for him, like his whole self contained laughter and joy and it was pouring out through the lines around his eyes and the curve of his mouth. Sid felt the pressure of Geno’s calf against his own under the table and knew he was smiling too.

“How long you here for?” Geno asked at one point, before swiping a french fry from Sid’s plate.

Sid stole a piece of Geno’s pizza crust in retaliation. “I leave next week.” He wasn’t thinking about that, yet. “You?”

As soon as he said it, a weight settled in Sid’s belly. _Don’t say tomorrow_ , he thought. _Don’t let this be over yet_.

But Geno sighed, and some of the laughter in his eyes dimmed. “Plane leaves in two days,” he said. “Was thinking to go back to San Francisco tomorrow, but...”

Sid’s heart thumped as Geno glanced at him, suddenly playful again. “Maybe is good I make ticket for red-eye back.”

Sid put that together. “So your flight leaves the day after tomorrow, but really late?”

“Ten-forty-five PM,” Geno grimaced. “Cheapest ticket, so I buy. Not regret so much, now.”

“Cool,” he said. _Please be single_ , he thought.

.

“I’m sure you already have plans,” Sid said later, as they stood on the aquarium’s upper deck and stared out at the bay. It was windier than Sid had expected up here, and he pulled his jacket closer. “But I was going to go whale watching tomorrow morning.”

“Mmm.” Geno was a line of warmth along Sid’s side. “Yes,” he said. “What time?”

“The boat leaves at 9am.”

Geno dropped his face in his hands and groaned.

“If you already have plans that’s okay,” Sid said quickly. “I just —”

“Yes have plan,” Geno said, a grin peeking out around his fingers. “Plan for _sleep_.”

“Oh.” Sid wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He didn’t know this man well enough yet to know if teasing was okay. He was a grad student, maybe he really needed the sleep.

“Bring me coffee?” Geno said after a moment, nudging Sid’s shoulder.

“Oh!” Sid said. “How do you like it?”

“How you Canadians say?” Sid had no idea what Geno meant. “Oh, right. I’ll take double-double please.”

“How do you even know what that means?” Sid laughed.

“Part of my North American cultural education,” Geno replied loftily. “Of course I visit Canada. Niagara Falls, Toronto, Hockey Hall of Fame. Tim Horton’s. _Timbits_.” He smacked his lips. “All important things.”

“You like hockey?” Sid tried to rein in his hopeful heart but it appeared to be too late.

Geno rolled his eyes. “Why you think I’m live in Pittsburgh? CMU, sure, it’s fine, but CMU plus favorite team? Of course I’m go.”

Sid stared down a branch of wafting kelp. “U Chicago’s a pretty great school too,” he offered. “Same with Georgetown.”

“Yes, yes, pity about trash teams.”

Finally Sid let himself laugh the big, obnoxious laugh he couldn’t make around his students or they’d lose all respect for him. He looked over at Geno. _You’re done for, Crosby_ , he thought. “I like you,” he said.

Geno pinked, and after a moment fumbled with his aquarium map. “Want to see penguin?” he asked. “Haven’t been there yet.”

“Sure,” Sid smiled.

. 

Eventually, somehow, they had seen all there was to see. They’d watched the otters and the jellies, the sharks and the stingrays, read about plover rehabilitation efforts and sustainable seafood choices. Geno insisted on taking a selfie with an obliging penguin who scooted up near the glass where they stood, and when Geno texted it to him Sid decided against sharing it anywhere. Maybe instead he would print it out, once he returned to Pittsburgh, and pin it over his desk at home. They both were smiling so much.

Finally, by mutual agreement they wandered toward the exit. Sid’s feet were hurting a little, and he felt oddly sad about returning to the aquarium another day, as he’d originally planned, because doing so would mean coming alone.

“Wait,” Geno said. “Gift store. Need souvenirs.” He promptly darted off through the clutter of people and displays. Sid shrugged and went to peruse the bookshelves.

Geno returned a few minutes later, holding two little penguin plushies. He danced one along a shelf and then down into Sid’s hands.

“What...?”

“For you,” Geno said. He was pink again. “For remember today. I got one too.”

The plushies were the size of Sid’s hand, easily small enough to fit in a suitcase. Both of them matched the penguin on Geno’s hat. He looked up at Geno. “Yes,” he said softly. “Thank you.” He carefully tucked his into his pack.

“Welcome,” Geno mumbled, fussing with his own little penguin. “We go now?”

“Okay,” Sid said, and wondered why his heart ached.

.

They made it as far as a bench a few dozen meters from the aquarium’s exit. The afternoon was mild, warmer than it had been in the morning but still pleasant, even sitting in the sun. And Sid was tired, unexpectedly so. Maybe the jet lag was finally catching up with him, but it was nice just to sit for a little while and not look at anything particular. Today wasn’t over yet.

Geno stretched like some kind of oversized cat and ended with his ankles crossed before him and his arms spanning the length of the bench. Sid gave in to a tiny, contented sigh.

“Thanks for say, earlier,” Geno said after a few minutes. “About whales, why you teacher.” He shifted, and his arm brushed Sid’s shoulders a little more firmly. “Knew when I saw you on bus, give seat for old people, I’m want to see if you as good person as you look. Think you are.”

Sid wasn’t always sure he was an especially good person. He was too close to his flaws, too intimately familiar with all the times he failed. But he also knew to take a compliment when it was freely given. He glanced up at Geno, then back down.

“This is probably a weird question, especially at this point, but...” Sid trailed off as awkwardness overtook his determination. His brain unhelpfully supplied him with the image of Flower laughing at him. Geno waited.

“Ah,” he tried again. “Are you single?” He blurted it so fast he was worried Geno wouldn’t understand and he’d have to repeat himself, but Geno only laughed.

“Not sure what you’re going to say,” he admitted. “But yes, Sid, am single.” He squeezed Sid’s shoulder. “You?”

“Yeah,” Sid said. He realized he was smiling again.

“Well good,” Geno said cheerfully. “No stress in thinking each other cute, maybe more. That’s good.” He stood, stretched again. “Okay, hungry again. You want take trolley back, or walk? Is nice day.”

“We can walk,” Sid said, and wondered how it was possible to feel this happy.

.

Sid didn’t believe in love at first sight — not in the kind of love that lasted, anyway — but maybe a history of awkward and stumbling relationships didn’t mean he was destined to fail at the whole thing. As Flower had pointed out numerous times in the past, Sid was good at relationships. He was good at being a friend, and a teacher, and a brother and a son. It was just that he’d tended, a few too many times, to become involved romantically with people who weren’t. Flower had opined, during one post-breakup ice cream session, that this tendency came from Sid thinking the people he slept with had to be qualitatively different than the people he laughed with. Admittedly this hadn’t been very helpful to hear at the time.

Sid glanced up at Geno, at the way his mouth was bowed even now in a half-smile as they strolled along in the dappled shade. For a man he’d met less than eight hours before, he felt remarkably like a friend.

“I’m glad I decided to go to the aquarium this morning,” he said.

Geno looked down at him, his smile now more private, something just for Sid. “Me too,” he said.

.

They ate fish tacos from a food truck, getting messy with aioli and sweet potato fries, and Geno laughed when Sid produced a bundle of napkins and wet wipes from his bag.

“I’m a teacher,” he said, using his water bottle to keep the napkins from blowing off the picnic table. “I’m prepared for everything.”

With a little prompting, Geno told Sid about his family, who still lived in Russia, and whom he was going to visit after this trip.

“Well,” Geno clarified. “First going to Miami. Friends there think I’m abandon them.” He looked a little sheepish. “Then going home. Been since New Years. Been since New Years since I’m see friends too but Mama put Easter cookies in freezer for me, say they’re going bad soon, have to get home. So Miami’s just for a few days.”

Sid’s own mother used to send him chocolate peanut butter cookies when he was struggling through his teacher’s assistantship. They’d always arrive right when each day felt harder than the last, and she’d fill out the package with sachets of tea, packs of tissues, and newspaper clippings of interesting stories from his hometown.

“Mom cookies are important,” he said, which was a totally obvious thing to say, but Geno nodded like he understood what Sid meant.

“Do you have any nieces or nephews yet?” he asked, after Geno went quiet, looking a little wistful around the edges. “Does your brother have children?” he clarified when Geno blinked at him.

Geno’s face relaxed back into a grin. “Oh yes, two, boy and girl. I get them _Finding Nemo_ fish from gift shop, because I’m best — what’s word?”

“Uncle?”

“Yes, best uncle for them.”

“Also their only uncle?” Sid guessed, teasing.

“Shh, don’t tell, they not old enough to know this yet.”

Sid laughed, and Geno contrived to look enormously pleased with himself.

“I bet you’d still be the best uncle,” Sid said, though Geno certainly didn’t need his ego stroked. He couldn’t help it — there was something about Geno’s little smirk, the way he was so clearly proud of his family, that Sid found extremely charming.

“Of course still be best,” Geno replied, preening now. “Best at everything. No competition.”

Sid had clearly gone too far. He imagined Geno floating away on his ballooning ego, and threw a balled-up napkin at his head. Geno squawked and nearly fell off the picnic table. Sid cleaned up the remains of their meal over the sound of his protestations, then walked a few meters down the sidewalk. “Ready?” he said.

“Yes, yes,” Geno grumbled, but he was smirking again. “Let’s go, more to see!”

.

They wandered along Cannery Row, window shopping aimlessly. Geno bought a stack of postcards from a souvenir shop, and then a sheet of stamps from a drugstore. It seemed every member of his family had been promised a postcard from his trip to California, and he’d only just remembered this. “Have lots of writing to do tonight,” he joked, tongue between his teeth.

As the day faded toward dusk, he tugged Sid over the dune and down onto the beach.

“Think I’m never get you out here,” Geno called over his shoulder. He was already hopping out of his shoes and socks.

“You could’ve just said!” Sid was a little surprised it had taken this long — he’d been eying the water for the past hour. He toed off his own shoes, and stuffed his socks carefully inside. The sand was cool under his feet, and damp. Sid wiggled his toes in it, smiling.

“Sid!” Geno cried. “Come on, have to say hi to ocean!” He was standing in the surf up to his ankles, arms lifted, a shoe in each hand. Sid picked his way down to him, feeling unaccountably breathless.

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re pretty weird?” he asked, because it was better than saying something completely embarrassing. The water rushed over his feet and he gasped.

Geno slung an arm over Sid’s shoulder. “Lots,” he replied. “I don’t mind.”

The water wasn’t so bad once your feet went numb, and they spent several long minutes in companionable silence, sinking a little lower into the sand with each wave. There were clouds on the horizon, just enough to turn everything pink and gold as the sun set. Eventually they moved back up the beach and sat shoulder to shoulder on the dry sand, just watching.

“Good day, Sid,” Geno murmured after a while.

Sid leaned into Geno, just a little. “A very good day,” he replied softly, smiling at the sky.

.

Sid arrived at the wharf at 8:15 the next morning, cradling two coffees and feeling a little silly about it. He was early, but there were already people gathering by the docks, and anyway he wasn’t sure how long getting the coffee would take. Plus the idea of being early felt better than the idea of Geno arriving first. He’d already taken a few pictures, one of the whale watching boat for his Instagram, and then one for his group chat, of him smiling down at the two coffee cups. Which, in hindsight, may’ve been a bad idea: his phone was vibrating non-stop with everyone’s reactions.

 _HOMEBOY’S FINALLY GOT SOME_ , Brownie sent.

 _that better be shade grown and fair trade_ , Olli replied, because, bless him, he refused to chirp Sid about his love life and so was forced to get creative.

 _Stella sends her congratulations_ , Phil texted, while Flower just sent a bunch of peach and eggplant emojis.

“Sorry am late, bus take forever.” Geno was suddenly in front of him, wearing a knit cap in place of yesterday’s penguin hat. “Why you so happy?”

“My friends are ridiculous,” Sid said, grinning at his phone. “But I’m happy to see you, too. Here’s your coffee.”

“Best,” Geno murmured. He adjusted his backpack — it looked bigger today, bulging off his back like a turtle shell. “Perfect, thank you,” he added, taking another sip.

“No problem. You said the bus was slow, where are you coming from?” Monterey wasn’t exactly a big town; Sid had walked here from his little apartment.

“Salinas,” Geno said, cupping the coffee in both is hands. “Have hotel close to Steinbeck Center.”

“That’s almost an hour bus ride away,” Sid exclaimed. He knew because he’d googled directions yesterday morning. “Wait. Last night you took a bus back to Salinas?”

“Well, didn’t sleep on beach, so...” Geno shrugged.

Sid stared at him. “Shit,” he said. “My Airbnb has a pull-out sofa, if I’d known you could’ve stayed with me.” He flushed as Geno regarded him. “On the sofa,” he added. “Or something. I feel bad I didn’t offer.”

Geno took another sip of his coffee, still looking at Sid. “It’s okay,” he said at last. “Bus, hotel, gives me time to think. Yesterday little bit intense, yeah?”

The bottom dropped from Sid’s stomach. _Shit_. He glanced away, down the wharf. This was what he got for hoping. Every time he hoped he forgot to guard himself, and every time it hurt.

“Hey,” Geno said. He stepped closer and laid a careful hand on Sid’s arm. “English,” he started, then huffed a sigh. “Maybe say what I’m not mean. Let me try again?”

Sid looked up at him, there went his heart again, hoping.

“Have friends like this before, two, maybe three times. It’s like, I’m meet and then, wow, okay! Best friends.” Geno’s hand tightened on Sid’s arm. Sid realized Geno was blushing, two pink spots high on his cheeks. Geno licked his lips. “But never,” he continued. Sid watched the blush spread, and felt that treacherous hope grow stronger. “Never also want to kiss these friends.”

For a second Sid imagined throwing his arms around Geno, imagined kissing him right there in the bright morning sun twenty yards from a whale watching boat. Then Geno cleared his throat and dropped his hand. “So, use time on bus, last night, to think. Like, am I feel this for real? Now that I’m away —” he waved a hand in the general direction of Salinas — “still feel like this? Wake up this morning, still feel? Lots of thinking.”

“Get a little bit of distance,” Sid offered, and Geno nodded.

“It’s good though, means on bus here — well, worry,” he said, pulling a face. “Because bus is late, but also really want to see you. Then you here with coffee and laugh and...” He looked away, mouth curving. “Yep. Still feel.”

Sid’s heart was beating so hard it was probably visible through his clothes. That hope was transforming from a tenuous, almost painful thing into a feeling he could count on, at least for today. He reached for Geno’s hand, tangled their fingers together. “Me, too,” he said softly.

.

It was actually cold, out on the water. They could’ve sat inside, peered out the boat’s windows and listened to the guide describe the migratory habits of the bay’s seal and porpoise populations, but Sid wanted to stand at the bow, pressed against the rail. It was still a thrill to be on the water like this, with the wind in his face and salt on his lips and the boat rocking under him. Here, it was impossible for Sid to feel anything less than totally, utterly alive. His knuckles were white against the rail, his heart pounding in his chest, and he couldn’t stop smiling.

Geno leaned into him, his toque pulled so low it covered his eyebrows, and looked as thrilled as Sid felt. It almost wouldn’t matter if they saw nothing but the waves and the gulls today. Just being here, like this, could be enough.

But today the ocean was generous. Half an hour after they’d left the dock, the guide pointed out a pod of dolphins off the starboard side. Everyone hurriedly shuffled around the deck, phones and cameras at the ready. In deference to the suddenly crowded deck, Geno stood right behind Sid, and then tucked his arms around Sid’s waist.

“Okay?” he murmured in Sid’s ear.

“Yes,” Sid said, enjoying the added thrill of feeling just how well Geno fit against him. “You can keep me warm now, thanks.”

Geno snugged a little closer. “I think is you keeping me warm. Forgot extra coat, glad I have Sid.”

“Anytime,” Sid said, meaning it.

Just then the pod of dolphins surfaced again, cresting and leaping to the delight of everyone on the boat. Sid took a short video to post later. It would have Geno’s whooping laughter in the background, but whatever. Geno was happy, he was happy, maybe whoever watched this on Instagram would feel happy, too.

“Wanna do a selfie?” Sid asked later, after the dolphins had moved on and the guide resumed her commentary.

“Of course,” Geno said. “But wait, let’s first —” He swung them both around so his back was to the rail. “Better view this way.” He propped his head on top of Sid’s and pulled a goofy face that had Sid laughing before Geno even snapped the picture. Then they took another, and another, because the light on the water behind them kept making their faces too dark.

“Want me to take it?” A person a few feet away waved. They had short purple hair, a jean jacket covered in badges, and floral printed boots. “I know how to do it so it won’t be dark.”

They — Sid spied a button on their jacket that said “they/them” in bright letters — reminded him of some of his students. “Yeah,” he said. “That’d be great, thanks.”

Freed from having to hold a phone, Geno wrapped both his arms around Sid and rested his chin on Sid’s shoulder. “Perfect,” he murmured. Sid surprised himself by shivering.

Their photographer held Sid’s phone up a moment, fiddling with the screen, then wiggled their fingers in a flourish. “Say cheese!” they called.

“Cheese,” Sid said, grinning.

“Сыр”, Geno cried. Sid could feel the corner of Geno’s smile against his cheek. He wanted to kiss him. He turned his head a few centimeters, felt his nose brush Geno’s skin as Geno reached to take the phone back and their photographer gave a little bow and Geno waved —

Whoops sounded from across the boat. Their guide cut off her narration as another round of cries went up. “Well folks,” she said. “Looks like we’re gonna see some whales today after all.” Sid grabbed Geno’s hand and hauled him around the deck.

They were humpbacks, three of them, coming up for air about a hundred meters away. Geno crowded behind him, making room at the rail for both of them. Sid took a short video of the whales blowing and flapping their flippers lazily against the water, and then he just watched. There were times to try for the perfect picture, and then there were times to be present, instead. The cold of the rail pressed against his hip and chest, and Geno was warm against his back. There was wind in his face and whales just a short distance away. He thought of his grandfather, and smiled.

The guide was explaining how researchers used the markings on humpbacks’ tails to identify them when the whales began to dive. “Aha,” she said. “Get ready, folks, I think they may give us a show today.”

Sid knew what the beginnings of a breach looked like and pulled out his phone again. “You watching?” he murmured to Geno.

“Watching so close, Sid,” Geno murmured back, lips at Sid’s temple. Sid aimed his phone at the water and pressed Record.

A moment later, the first whale surfaced in a massive breach, nearly clearing the water. Geno was still cheering when the second whale breached, and then the third. The crowd erupted. The subsequent splashes were so big, spray misted over everyone on the deck. Someone started clapping, and half the boat joined in a round of applause. One of the whales flashed its flukes, much farther away now, and people cheered again.

Sid licked salt from his lips and glanced up at Geno.

Geno was actually crying. “Incredible,” he whispered, over and over. “So incredible. Can’t believe I’m see this.” He scrubbed at his cheeks, tried to laugh, and cried some more. Sid shoved his phone back into his pocket and turned around to brush away Geno’s tears.

Then, hands still framing his face, Sid balanced on his toes and kissed Geno lightly, once, twice. He felt tears on his fingers and drew back. “I’m really, really happy you could see it, too.”

Geno pulled him into a hug. “Never forget, Sid,” he whispered fiercely. “Never forget this, with you.”

.

They were quiet for the rest of the trip. The guide pointed out different birds, and some seals in the distance, but nothing could outdo the whales. Sid remained on the deck, and Geno stood behind him, and then next to him as people drifted into the cabin to warm up, and whenever Sid glanced up at him Geno smiled down. Sid didn’t tend to think of life in terms of perfect moments, but he knew he’d remember this, these two whole days really, for a long, long time.

The wharf, when they returned that afternoon, was crowded — there were too many tourists, too many shops, and too much noise. If he’d been on his own, Sid would’ve blocked it out, found a cafe somewhere, but Geno was looking a little wild around the eyes. Sid remembered he’d seen a park not very far away, near the water, and he took Geno’s hand. When they passed a convenience store along the way, Geno tugged Sid inside and they bought snacks for a picnic.

“Reese’s?” Geno smirked at the two packs Sid set beside the apples and chips and hummus Geno found.

Sid turned and grabbed a bag of carrot sticks from the cooler display. “It’s a balanced meal,” he replied.

“Dessert is most important for balance,” Geno agreed. He looked a little calmer now.

They found a picnic table in the shade, and sat facing the bay. The silence stretched between them, companionable and easy. Geno waved to every dog that walked by, and happily petted those who dragged their owners over to say hello.

He insisted on treating Sid to dinner that evening, since Sid had bought the whale watching tickets, and Sid agreed only if Geno would let him leave the tip. Geno had found a hibachi grill, which was remarkable to Sid only because the choice seemed incredibly unsurprising. Of course anything with fire and knives flying around would be Geno’s thing. And it was entertaining, another kind of spectacle in a day already full of them.

They returned to the beach to watch the sun set, because it’d be a waste not to, and then finally, tired and full and happy, Sid led Geno back to his little apartment.

But the promised sofa bed, when they unfolded it, wasn’t big enough. Geno gingerly lay down amidst a chorus of creaking springs. The mattress ended halfway past his knees. He looked up at Sid, eyes crinkled. “Mama always say I’m too tall.”

“Hmm.” Sid would probably fit if he curled up, but he couldn’t imagine Geno letting him do that.

“Other bed pretty big,” Geno offered, wiggling his feet and making the sofa mattress squeak some more. “Share doesn’t mean we have to...” he waved a hand. “Mess around.”

Most of Sid was relieved. “Is it weird that I want to get to know you better before we really do anything? Not because I don’t want to,” he added quickly. “Do anything, I mean.”

“Not weird, Sid.” Geno heaved himself upright, then very gently touched his fingers to Sid’s. “Make me happy, even, because means you want see me again in Pittsburgh.”

“Oh.” Sid realized he’d been caught on the idea that if they slept together now, Geno would lose interest in anything else. “Yeah, I really do.” He twined his fingers with Geno’s. “Do you?”

“Lots,” Geno said, poking his tongue between his teeth. “Hoping you’d say.”

“Oh,” Sid said again, feeling pleased. “Well. Good.”

After a brief discussion over who’d use the bathroom first, and which side of the bed they each preferred to sleep on, Sid stripped to his boxers and an old, worn tee and tugged down the sheets. Sharing a bed wasn’t a big deal — he and Flower often doubled up for overnight field trips — but as Geno had said that morning, this thing between them was a little more than friendship. Maybe that was why he wanted to take it so slowly. Something like this had never happened for him before; it would be good to savor it a little.

When he came out of the bathroom, Geno was in bed reading on a tablet. He was wearing glasses, a fact which shouldn’t have been breathtaking but there Sid was, standing just inside the bedroom doorway, resisting the urge to gulp for air. _You’re savoring this, Crosby_. Jumping Geno’s bones was the opposite of savoring.

Geno looked up, over the rims of his glasses. “Okay Sid?”

“Yep,” Sid managed. “Apparently that, uh, really does it for me.” He waved generally at Geno’s person.

Geno blinked, then blushed, then looked smug. “Want me for sexy librarian fantasy, Sid?”

Sid laughed. It was either that or groan embarrassingly. He shook his head — mostly in an effort to clear it — and reached for his own book, tucked into his duffel. “Maybe we can, ah, try that later,” he said, sliding into his side of the bed. “What are you reading?”

So Geno told him about his book — a Russian mystery novel — and Sid talked about the memoir he was reading, and his heart rate slowly settled into a more normal pace. This wouldn’t be remotely like sharing a hotel bed with Flower, but they’d make it work.

“Night, Sid,” Geno murmured sometime later, shutting off the light at last. “Happy whale dreams.”

“Night,” Sid whispered back, smiling at the ceiling.

.

He’d wondered if it would take him a while to fall asleep, as aware of Geno as he was, but the next thing Sid remembered was waking slowly in the predawn gloom. The line of Geno’s back was an unfamiliar silhouette against the lightening sky, the slope of his shoulder and curving hip just inches from where Sid lay. He wanted to rest his hand there. He wanted to tuck himself in close and curl his arm around Geno’s waist and fall back asleep.

Instead he sighed, not unhappily, and rolled over. If he scooted over those few inches, until his back was pressed against Geno’s, surely that was allowed.

As the first songbirds began to call outside, Sid drifted off again, warm and content.

He woke a couple of hours later to discover that Geno had had no such compunctions about personal space: he was snuggled up behind Sid, leg hooked around Sid’s shin and an arm around his waist. Sid felt his breath on the back of his neck, and gave himself one moment to stretch into it.

He was also _warm_. Sid spent another moment imagining sharing a bed with this man in the winter months, and let himself wonder if the long, bleak weeks of January would be better if Geno was there. Then he wiggled away and sat up.

Geno grumbled. Sid turned in time to watch Geno’s frown, presumably at being woken, smooth into a little smile as he opened his eyes. His mumblings took on a decidedly happier note and he pushed his head into Sid’s hip.

“I’m gonna get a shower,” Sid whispered. “It’s still pretty early, sleep as long as you want.”

Geno made a little noise of assent and burrowed farther against Sid. Sid pulled the sheets back up around Geno’s shoulder and then gave in, brushing his fingers through Geno’s hair. He felt Geno sigh, and watched as he drifted back to sleep. 

.

Geno emerged from the bedroom about an hour later, pausing long enough to glance toward the little kitchen area where Sid had a pot of coffee brewing. He seemed to contemplate the merits of just bringing a mug into the shower with him, then he shook himself and looked up at Sid.

“Morning,” Sid said. “Scrambled eggs and toast when you’re out? I’ve got strawberries, too.”

Geno nodded and trundled on into the bathroom.

He was still quiet over breakfast — saving a murmured “Best, Sid,” when he accepted a mug of coffee, and some soft exclamations over Sid’s admittedly mediocre eggs and toast, Geno seemed content to sit at the table by the window and watch the backyard chickens putter around below.

When Sid took a picture of both of their plates, however, cleared but for silverware and crumbs, Geno revived, twisting on his bar stool to smile at Sid. “Is for friends?” He peered at Sid’s phone.

“Yep,” Sid said. “Watch this.” He sent the picture to his group chat, along with a single _:)_

“We’re three hours behind everyone, which means everyone’s awake, which means —”

Sure enough, Sid’s phone started vibrating as replies came in.

“Wow,” Geno said. “How many people in this chat?”

“About a dozen,” Sid said. His phone was still vibrating. They watched as it scooted slowly across the table. “But that’s mostly Flower and Brownie.”

“You have pictures? Of your friends?”

“Sure,” Sid said. He turned off notifications and scrolled through his photos. There were a lot of good ones, and of course Geno wanted the stories behind each of them. This led to Geno pulling out his own phone, showing Sid pictures of Geno’s parents, of his brother’s family, and his Miami friends, as he called them, some of whom were models and all of whom looked rich.

“Is different life,” Geno said, staring at a selfie of him with a frankly gorgeous woman. “Meet at university, happy we’re friends, but...” He flipped back, scrolled to a picture of a cat sitting by a window, and Sid recognized the Pittsburgh skyline in the background. “Dixi’s best girl for me.”

Sid met Geno’s gaze for a moment. “She looks like a sweetheart,” he said. He slid off his stool and began gathering dishes. “How long have you had her?”

“One year and a half. Found her outside, think maybe she’s lost but no one claim her. Mine now,” he added happily. “Best cat.” And he launched into a story about Dixi’s first car ride, and then her first encounter with catnip, and finally her ongoing quest to befriend the squirrels outside Geno’s apartment. His own impression of Dixi made Geno giggle so hard he had to stop talking, and Sid glanced up from the dishes in the sink, ready to laugh with him.

And then he just stopped, caught by the sight of Geno perched on the bar stool beaming around his coffee mug. Sid dried his hands without looking away. Slowly Geno set down the mug, his grin sliding into a kind of focused awareness that made Sid’s heart kick.

“Hey.” Sid’s voice was a little rough. “Ah. Can I kiss you? I didn’t ask yesterday and I should’ve but I really want —”

Geno shifted, spread his knees and held out a hand. “Yes,” he said. “Come here, Sid.”

Sid shuffled forward the few steps it took, let Geno pull him in as he set his hands on Geno’s shoulders. Geno’s thighs bracketed his hips, and his breath fanned across his mouth. Sid teased them both for a moment, licking his lips and brushing Geno’s too, and he watched Geno’s eyes go dark.

“Sid,” he breathed, and Sid felt his name on his skin.

Then he moved forward the last few centimeters, closed the distance between them, and it was like the first delicious shock of a wave over his feet, like the last day of school, like seeing a whale jump clear out of the water. If yesterday’s kiss was a reassurance, an act of grounding in a tumultuous moment, this was like leaping off a cliff with the absolute certainty that he would fly.

Geno threaded his fingers through Sid’s hair, and Sid heard himself make a little noise. He pushed closer, his shins knocking against the barstool. Geno hooked one of his legs around Sid’s and wrapped his other arm more firmly around Sid’s waist. Sid felt Geno’s hand under the hem of his shirt, felt day-old stubble against his skin, and the pounding of both their hearts. Geno tasted like coffee, which ordinarily wasn’t something that would do it for Sid, but as Sid kissed him, again and again, he was thrilled by the knowledge that this man with laughter in his eyes tasted like a morning spent here, with him. It was happiness and desire and the almost desperate need for more — more kisses, and more mornings — all in one.

“God,” Sid murmured, a little weak in the knees. “God, Geno...”

“Call me Zhenya.” Geno panted the name against Sid’s mouth. “Geno everyday name. Zhenya... Only for family, very close friends.”

Sid was half hard between Geno’s thighs, and it sure seemed like Geno was in a similar state. “Yeah,” he said, just to watch Geno grin. “I’d say we’re very close friends right now.”

Geno nipped his chin. Sid kissed him again, gently this time, and they passed several long minutes trading soft kisses, just delighting in the feel of each other, together.

“You’ll text me when you get back to Pittsburgh?” Sid said eventually.

Geno was kissing his way along Sid’s jaw. “Text you tomorrow. Text you every day.” He paused. “Don’t want to annoy you though.”

Sid wove his fingers into Geno’s hair, held him there for a moment. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

Geno hummed under Sid’s ear, then sat back. “Rest of stuff still in Salinas,” he said. “Gotta get going soon.”

“I’ll take you,” Sid said immediately. He ran his hands over Geno’s shoulders and then brushed a thumb over Geno’s brow. “I have a rental car, I’ll take you to the airport.”

“Sid. Airport in San Francisco.”

Geno didn’t look upset, just incredulous. It’d be almost a two-hour trip, one way, but — “I don’t want to say goodbye yet,” Sid said.

Geno searched Sid’s face, and then hauled him in for a hug. “Not offer unless you mean, right?” he whispered.

Sid turned his head into Geno’s neck, stroked his hair. “Right,” he replied. “I want to, G— Zhenya.” He made an effort at the name, and Geno squeezed him closer. “It’s an offer, though, and I understand if you’d rather go alone, get a little distance.”

“Gonna have lots of distance soon, Sid,” Geno muttered into Sid’s shoulder. “Six whole weeks before Pittsburgh again.”

Sid could feel Geno’s heart beating against his chest. He thought about waking to see the line of Geno’s back against the dark, and he thought about his sleepy smile this morning, and standing here now, enveloped. “Okay,” he said, pulling back. His own heart felt tender, and sore already. “That gives us, what, five more hours?”

Geno nodded. “Two days ago,” he said after a moment, “am think, ‘Oh Zhenya, go to Monterey, see fishies, see ocean, have nice time.’ Never expect —”

He swallowed, tried a lopsided grin. Sid cupped his cheek, and he leaned into it, gaze weighted in ways Sid tried not to interpret. Geno opened his mouth, closed it, and his expression cleared into something more mischievous. “Gonna have to introduce me to all your texting friends,” he said. “Think they not believe I’m real.”

Sid laughed and bumped his forehead against Geno’s, ignoring his own pounding heart. It was definitely too early to be confessing big feelings. That was okay.

.

“How’d you get into Steinbeck?”

Sid had a feeling his careful driving was making Geno antsy, but this little rental car of his was not built for speed. The local public radio station muttered in the background, because Sid only had podcasts on his phone and Geno was apparently low on data.

“Class at university,” Geno said. “Had to take English lit course, hear about this one American who write stories about working class, but also visit Russia. Think, ‘What can he say about Russia?’” He shrugged. “Turns out, a lot.”

“Yeah? Good things?”

“Well. Still American. But is interesting! Him and Capa, that’s photographer, they actually try to understand Russians, try to show West, especially America, how Russian people are. Or were,” he amended. “Go there in ’46, after war, when lots of people not know what is future for Russia or West. Interesting time for sure.”

“That’s his _Russian Journal_ , right?” Sid asked. They were nearing Salinas already. “I haven’t read that one yet.” He’d overlooked it in favor of Steinbeck’s fiction, and planned to correct that soon.

“You need to, then you help with my dissertation!”

Sid glanced over at Geno. He’d be happy to help if Geno really needed it, but once school started again he’d be pretty busy —

Geno poked his tongue between his teeth. “Look on your face,” he laughed. “Like, ‘Hm how do I say no without offend?’ Is fine Sid, I have great advisor.” He draped his arm over the car seats, hand brushing Sid’s shoulder. “Would be fun to hear what you think, though.”

“Yeah,” Sid said. “I’d like that. I’ll see if I can find a copy soon.”

.

“Do you need a hand with your bags?” Sid asked as he parked outside the little motel.

“No but come anyway,” Geno replied. He was already halfway out of the car.

So Sid watched as Geno rearranged his belongings on a bland motel bed, stuffing his backpack with a laptop, the tablet, his toiletries and the plush penguin from the aquarium. Into a suitcase went yesterday’s clothes, more toiletries, and a stack of books Geno had to cram around everything else already in there. The suitcase, when he zipped it, bulged noticeably but Geno hummed in satisfaction and then lugged it to the doorway.

“Sid,” he said after a moment.

Sid looked up from his phone. Geno was staring at the floor, suddenly tense in a way that had Sid shoving his phone back in his pocket and taking a step forward. “Okay?” he said.

“Maybe silly,” Geno muttered. He ran a hand through his hair. “But. Don’t want to kiss goodbye at airport. Just wave, or something. But want to kiss anyway.” Geno’s cheeks were red. He glanced at Sid. “Can we pretend we say goodbye now, so do it for real?”

“Absolutely,” Sid said. He hadn’t been quite sure how they’d part ways at the airport, and he was willing to let Geno take the lead here.

Geno smiled, shy in a way Sid hadn’t yet seen him, and shrugged open his arms. Sid walked to him, felt the warmth of his body and the weight of his hands, and the little breath across his face as Geno huffed a laugh.

“Hey,” Sid murmured. Geno’s eyes were shining, and Sid reached up to frame Geno’s face, ready to brush away any tears that might fall.

“Hey Sid.” He kissed Sid’s forehead, then his right cheek, and then his left. Sid pushed his hands back, threaded his fingers through Geno’s hair, and met Geno’s mouth with his own.

This morning, they had come together and ignited. Now, that fire was banked, soft and warm and steady as a heartbeat. They shared slow, gentle kisses, the urgency of earlier replaced by a kind of quiet determination that this would not be the last time. It would not.

Geno’s thumb brushed Sid’s cheek, and Sid was surprised to realize he’d started crying. “I’m fine,” he said, drawing back. “Just a lot of feelings all the sudden.”

Geno’s smile looked a little watery too. “Is okay, Sid,” he whispered. “Like me all the time. I know how to take care.”

For some reason this made Sid want to laugh and cry harder all at once. He settled for pressing his face into Geno’s shoulder and simply holding on.

.

“Where you live, in Pittsburgh?”

Sid glanced at Geno. They’d both been a little subdued since leaving Salinas. Sid had been trying to ignore the part of his brain that insisted he shouldn’t feel this sad. It didn’t matter if he’d only met Geno three days ago. As Geno himself had said yesterday, sometimes you met someone, and you were friends, just like that. Maybe sometimes you could meet someone, and be more than friends, too.

“Squirrel Hill,” he said. “I’ve got a little apartment on South Negley. You?”

“South Highland!” Geno said, suddenly much more animated. “Big old building in Shadyside, just renewed lease. Little bit expensive, but of course close to school and Dixi’s happy there.”

Sid mapped it out in his head. “Wait, we live like a mile apart.”

“Have to go all the way to California to finally meet,” Geno said. “Glad it happened here. Maybe you see me in Pittsburgh, not notice CMU badge because there, it’s normal.”

Sid wondered again at his mostly impulsive decision a few mornings ago to visit the aquarium. Thinking about the alternatives, if he’d gone down to the beach instead, or visited the Steinbeck Center, made him a little queasy now. He wondered if he’d sway in that mental balance, between what had happened and the what ifs, for the rest of his life. He thought maybe he would.

Traffic increased the closer they got to San Francisco, and for once Sid didn’t resent it. Geno was fiddling with his phone as they slowed to a steady crawl, and after a few minutes Sid felt his pocket vibrate. He looked at Geno.

“Send you pictures I take,” he murmured.

“Oh cool,” Sid said. “Thanks. I’ll send you the ones I have when I get back.”

“Cool.”

And then somehow they were at the airport, and Geno was telling him which airline he was flying, and Sid had to maneuver the rental car around impatient taxis and hulking SUVs, to the curb outside the departures entrance.

“Want me to get out?” he asked.

Geno looked pained, and shook his head. He gripped Sid’s hand, stared him in the eye and took a breath. “Happy I meet you, Sid,” he whispered. “So so happy. I text, don’t worry.”

He squeezed Sid’s hand hard, then practically fell out of the car. Sid popped the trunk, which made Geno disappear from his rearview mirror, but Geno circled around a moment later, bags in tow. He stooped to peer into the passenger side window.

Sid rolled it down. “Have a safe flight,” he said, which was such a stupid thing to say, especially to someone he wanted desperately not to leave behind. “See you later, eh?”

Geno managed a smile. “See you, Sid.”

Then he hefted his bags and walked through the double doors without looking back.

.

Sid drove down the coast in silence. The sky flared orange for a couple of miles, spectacular in that unabashed way sunsets could be, and it felt wrong to not be on a beach watching it. But pulling over felt wrong, too. He hoped wherever Geno was in the airport, it was near a window facing west.

It was dark by the time he arrived back at his Airbnb. It had been last night, too. There were two plates in the drying rack by the sink, and two mugs, and two forks. He put them away. He tried reading for a while, curled up on the sofa, and when that didn’t work he scrolled through Instagram. His followers had liked the whale videos. But Geno’s voice laughing in the background hit Sid somewhere yet too tender to confront, and he closed the app. Then, sighing, he opened his email and began a letter to Flower. Emails were serious: Flower would read it, and respond in kind tomorrow.

Sid told him everything.

At 10:38 PM, as Sid was finally getting into bed, he received a text.

 _On plane!!!!_ it said. _Just me and my friend))))_

Geno had attached a picture of the seat next to him, occupied only by the small penguin plushie. He’d managed to tuck its tiny orange feet under the fastened seatbelt. Sid flopped back on his pillow.

Then, in a fit of inspiration, he dove for his backpack and retrieved his own little penguin. He fluffed the pillow Geno had used last night, nestled the penguin down and pulled the sheet around them both. Then he took a picture.

 _Me too_ , he replied. _Have a good flight_

Immediately three dots appeared. Sid waited, snuggling into Geno’s pillow and kissing the little penguin’s head. At last Geno replied, entirely in emojis. There was a flame, a rosy cheeked smiley face, two penguins, a gold heart and a black one, and then the pink double hearts.

Sid grinned at his phone, stupidly charmed. As he was scrolling through his own emojis Geno added, _Will text when I land. Happy dreams sid!!_

 _You too_ , Sid replied. He added the whale emoji, and the wave, and, feeling greatly daring, a single pink heart. Then he shoved his phone under the pillow, turned off the light, and sighed at the ceiling, feeling tender and full and happy all over again, until he finally fell asleep.

.

His phone buzzed. It wasn’t his alarm; it wasn’t even five in the damn morning. Sid grabbed for it, winced at the screen, and squinted until his eyes adjusted. There was a tiny thumbnail of a picture, from Geno, something bright. He unlocked his phone just as Geno sent another text.

_Good morning sid!! We see sunsets over ocean so here’s sunrise for you))))_

Geno must’ve gone to the beach as soon as he landed, gone right down to the water’s edge. He’d captured the sun as it rose above a bank of clouds on the horizon, washing both sky and waves in brilliant light. Sid stared at it, warm in his bed three thousand miles away, with a little plush penguin nestled under his chin. As he was deciding how to respond — now, or later, when Geno probably expected him to wake up? — Geno sent another picture.

Sid broke into a smile as Geno’s goofy grin filled his screen. It looked like he was actually standing in the surf — saying hi to the ocean — with his own little penguin tucked into the collar of his shirt.

“God,” Sid murmured. He couldn’t reply now, he’d do something stupid like confess everything in his heart over text message. He pushed his phone back under the pillow, sighed enormously, and listened to the birds outside as they began their new day songs.

He hadn’t made any solid plans for today, figuring that he’d let himself be aimless, after yesterday. But now at least he knew what he, and his little penguin, would be doing at sunset.

Six weeks wasn’t that long a time, really, in the grand scheme of things.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! There's a sequel, [A Lot of Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18434366), which you may enjoy as well!
> 
> Dozens of cookies to Lux & Senia for cheering me on and giving excellent feedback, I honestly would've given up without them.
> 
> Leave a comment if you liked what you read! Comments keep me writing :D


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